I do not sing or, God forbid, dance. My preferred method of moving my body to music is to stand ramrod straight and sway gently in the breeze, much like a pine tree. My high school in Effingham, Illinois, did not have a glee club, which may have been for the best, because I would have been tempted to join despite my abundant lack of musical talent. This is because there’s something almost magical about belonging to a club. Joining together with like-minded people around a shared interest is a unique experience. To be in a club is to be in a relationship, not just with the individual members, but with the club itself.

The clubs that I gravitated toward in high school were athletic. Football and basketball were my teams of choice. My relationship with them was like that of best friends. I craved time with them and took immense enjoyment from being in their presence. We understood each other. In the spring, however, when football and basketball ended, I found myself grieving the loss of those relationships. It was like my best friends had gone out of town on an extended family vacation, and I was left behind to fill the void. So I joined the track team. The track team, for me, became the friend you call when you have no other options. It was the kid next door whom you hang out with only because he happens to be there when you’re bored. It was a provisional friendship, designed to pass the  …